#fireflyswinterchallenge

“Is anyone here?!” he croaked out. 

“Yes, I’m here, everyone else went skiing.”

“Oh, well when are they coming back?” he asked, looking over to you softly. You crossed your arms and swallowed, unsure how he would take the news that you were probably going to be alone and stuck in the cabin at least overnight, if not longer. 

“Um, I guess you haven’t looked out the window, huh?” you laughed nervously. Thor frowned at you and stalked across the room towards you, his face up against the window. 

“What? Just some light snow.” He looked back at you. You chuckled, forgetting how oblivious he could be. If he thought this was light then you wondered what snowfall on Asgard was like. “They can get back, I’ll just clear a path.” He stomped over to the front door of the cabin, pulling open the door. A wall of white blocked up to where the door handle had been, a small imprint in the snow. Thor moved forward into the snow.

“Thor! Stop, you’ll freeze!” Surely he couldn’t be this desperate to not be alone with you. He shuffled into the snow and it came crashing down into the lodge behind him. “Wait, you’re getting snow in here!” He stopped, looking over his shoulder to see the mess. 

“AA, AA, ACHOOO!” he roared, echoing into the silence outside. Rolling your eyes you walked over to him, grabbing his arm and trying to drag him back inside. He looked down at you pulling at his arm, clearly perplexed that you thought you could move him, the mighty Thor. “Okay, okay, fine.” He conceded and turned inside, traipsing snow through the doorway. 

“I think you’d better get out of those wet trousers,” you said, looking down at his now soggy legs. As you looked back up to his face, eyes raking across his body, lapping him up, you realised what you’d just said. His devilish grin and raised eyebrow made you blush furiously. 

“Oh really, well, Y/N, I didn’t think you were interested in me…” he goaded.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I am, I mean, I’m, you’re…” you stammered over your words and walked away from him, cheeks burning and tripping over nothing on your way.

“Y/N…” he called. You turned to him and screamed, immediately spinning back. He was stood there in his underwear, fuck, you were going to struggle getting that out of your head, and your stomach filled with butterflies. 

He laughed loudly, and snuck his way back upstairs, leaving you stood blushing with your eyes covered. He returned after a minute, seeing you in the same position as before. You hadn’t noticed he was gone, too wrapped up in your own head, thinking about his thick thighs, and the shape of his cock through his underwear. 

“Y/N,” Thor said softly. 

“I’m not turning around until you put something on.” 

He stepped close behind you, his warm musky smell adding to your distraction. Reaching around you his hands encircled your wrists and he pulled your hands away from your eyes. He spun you around, you were closer to the God than you ever had been and your heart was racing. You glanced down, seeing he had replaced the soaking joggers with checked red pyjama bottoms, and a woollen jumper. He chuckled at you.

“Checking me out again,” he grinned. You blushed again and tried to pull away from him, but your arms were still in his grasp. He released you, and you took a seat on the couch. To your surprise he came and sat near you, despite the huge space. “So what are we going to do. Stuck here, surely there’s nothing exciting. I’m bored.” Thor had gone from sexy, strong, and desirable, to bored child within a matter of seconds. You realised that being stuck here in a small cabin, on a different world, he had no idea what to do. Being surrounded by servants and entertainers and life, and now action and strategy, he had not stopped. He’d never had to just be, and find something less… loud to occupy his attention. 

“Well, we could put a Christmas movie on, or play a board game.” 

“A bored game? I just said I was bored, I don’t want to play a game which would make me more bored.” You giggled at his naivety. 

“No, a game, it’s a game on a board. Have you never played?” He shook his head, and you got up, opening the cupboard under the television and looked at the selection of games. All the classics were there as you’d expect, Catan, Cluedo, Scrabble, Frustration. No Monopoly, which was probably for the best, you could just imagine the arguments if you played that. Steve would be buried in the rule book, Thor would try and claim everything, Natasha would be winning without people noticing, and someone would definitely flip the board and rage quit. 

You pulled out Cluedo, your childhood favourite. Sitting cross legged on the other side of the settle, Thor watched as you shuffled the cards and set up the game. You explained the rules, his face fixed in a frown. 

“So you play games where someone has been murdered?” he asked.

“Well yeah, the fun is in solving the murder. And beating the other player of course.” 

***

“I WIN! Right? I solved it, it was Colonel Mustard, with the rope in the kitchen!” Thor’s face was lit up. 

“Take a look, see if you were right.” You had someone else as the murderer that you were convinced by, but maybe you were wrong. He reached for the solution and pulled the cards out slowly. He grunted and threw the cards down, standing up abruptly. 

“This game, I don’t like it.” 

“Not Colonel Mustard?” you grinned. 

“No. Hey! How did you know, you cheated!” he loomed over you. 

Laughing at him, you shook your head. “No, I didn’t cheat.”

“You’re lying! Unless there’s some sort of witchcraft in this?” he picked through the cards again. 

“Wow, you sure are a sore loser,” you chuckled. He glared at you. “Well, I think it’s Mrs. Peacock, with the rope in the kitchen.” His eyes snapped up to you, shock echoing through his face. “I’m right, huh?” you laughed at him and began to pack up the game. 

“I don’t want to play a board game,” he sulked back into his seat. You put the box away, and sat next to him, his face in a pout. “When are they gonna get back?” He stood up and stared out the window, the snow still coming down. 

“I don’t know, maybe tomorrow.” He turned to look at you, features firm and frowning slightly. “Come on, you enjoyed the board game, is it really so bad being stuck here?”

“Yes, there’s not enough space. I’m bored,” his comments were starting to rile you. “There’s nothing to do.” 

“I see, you don’t want to be stuck here with just me, I’m boring huh. Fine, I’ll go to my room.” 

“No. Y/N, that’s not what I meant.” The rest of his protest went unheard by you as you stalked upstairs in a dramatic huff. You didn’t really know why his comments were bothering you, you just wanted to be liked by him you supposed. There really wasn’t any need to be mad or upset, but you were a bit annoyed that he kept moaning about being bored. You reached your room and slammed the door behind you, hearing Thor’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Maybe you just needed a warm bath to relax you a little, and you padded into the bathroom and began to run your bath, dumping about a quarter of the bottle of lavender bubble bath in. Excessive, but oh well, you needed to unwind. You stripped off, before realising you’d left your towel at the bottom of your bed. Walking through to the bedroom in just your bra and panties, you weren’t expecting Thor to be stood there. You yelped and grabbed your towel, covering yourself. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted at him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he turned away slightly, allowing you to cover yourself properly, “I just, I, I do want to be stuck here with just you. I mean, I’ve enjoyed being here with you.” Why was he stumbling over his words, you hadn’t seen him like this before.

“Oh, well, I’ve uh, me too. I’m going for a bath,” you looked at him, still a little angry and turned towards the bathroom. You padded over to the bathtub and bent over to test the water, and turned off the taps. Thor moaned quietly behind you, and you looked up. His eyes were fixed on your ass, which had been exposed when you’d bent down. 

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’ve done to me, today has been claustrophobic, trapped in the cabin with you, not being able to distract myself from you or avoid you. Seeing you check me out, seeing you blushing, watching you concentrate on the game. Fuck, Y/N, you’ve been driving me wild.” He stepped towards you, and your heart was racing. Was he saying what you thought he was? He towered over you, stroking your hair, and moving to tilt your head to him. He moved slowly, cautiously to your lips. 

You moaned into him as he filled your senses, that musky smell infiltrating your nose and breath, his warm lips and scratchy beard kissing at your lips desperately, his tongue pushing into you. His hand reached around you and ripped the towel away from you, leaving you in your underwear again. You whimpered between his lips and his hands grasped at you desperately. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him, your hands reaching into his hair. Feeling his muscles under his jumper, and the strength of his arms around you was quickly causing the heat between your legs to become more and more uncomfortable. He carried you through to your bedroom, crashing against the door on your way. He pinned you against the door, running his hands up your body, and pulling at your bra. It fell away from you and to the floor, quickly being replaced by Thor’s hands. Kissing down your neck, his mouth fixed around your nipple and he pulled on it, nibbling a little. You mewled as his teeth made contact, and his fingers pinched at your other nipple. Fuck. He grabbed your waist again, and carried you the rest of the way to your bed, throwing you down on it. 

Pulling the jumper over his head, he revealed his rippling muscles. Your mouth dropped open, entranced by his incredible abs and biceps, mind racing with the different ways he could ruin you. He smirked as you watching him, and climbed on to you, taking your lips onto his. You leaned backwards and he ran his hand up your arm, entwining his fingers in yours and pushing your hand firmly into the bed. His hips ground into you, rubbing the sensitive part between your legs. You needed more, you needed him inside you. Reaching down between you, you cupped and stroked his length.

Thor growled, “eager to have me are you?” You nodded and bit down on your lip. He pulled away from you, and chuckled at the lust and pain at the sudden loss of him in your eyes. He paused for a moment, looking at you hungrily, his eyes gazing down your body. With his finger, he gently stroked your slit through your underwear. 

“Soaked for me already?” You whimpered, blushing that your body had given away your need. Bucking your hips forward you tried to get more friction, to get his finger on your clit, but he pulled away and spanked you softly. You let out a moan and threw your head back. He was so frustrating. The smirk on his lips only made you more annoyed, and pouting you sat up, reaching forward to pull his boxers off. His hard cock sprung free; you had no idea how you were going to be able to take him. You moved to kneel in front of him. Wrapping your hand around him, you worked him into your mouth, barely even halfway down his length you could feel him at the back of your throat. The thought of what he was going to do to your pussy caused you to whimper around him, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. 

His hands had been stroking through your hair, and pawing at your breasts while you sucked him, the wetness between your legs, still soaking through your panties. Without warning he pulled you off him flipping you over onto your front. Grabbing your hips he pulled you to your knees, and ripped off your underwear, leaving them torn and flung across the room. You were exposed and almost dripping in front of him. He slid his fingers between your lips instantly coated in your juices, and slid one thick finger inside you. He stilled.

“Please, Thor, I need more,” you moaned and rocked into his finger, trying to build friction, desperate for an orgasm. 

“Mm, but watching you fuck yourself on my finger is really something. Maybe I’ll let you have another.” A second finger pushed at your entrance. You couldn’t help but continue to fuck yourself on him, getting yourself closer to a release. But too soon, he slipped his fingers out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, and his hands reached around you, lifting you up, your back flush to his hard chest, feeling his cock tease you. He walked over to the mirror in the corner of the room, and placed you down. 

“Back on your knees baby, I want to watch you come undone on my cock.” You obeyed him instantly, your self-consciousness overcome by the desperation to come. He pushed your back down until your nipples brushed the carpet and nudged your legs open. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, sliding in gently. You clenched around him, your body acclimatising to the sudden fullness. With one hand on your hip, the other reached forward, twisting your hair around it. He thrust into you, harder, hitting your cervix, and set a maddening pace. Within a minute of him fucking you, you screamed around him, and seeing him fucking you in the mirror, lustful delight across his face, the coil inside you snapped. He moaned gruffly, your body shaking at the intensity of your orgasm. 

He pulled back on your shoulders, holding you pressed against him. You leaned your head back into his chest, your boobs sticking out, as your back arched, still impaled on his cock. 

“Look in the mirror. Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, and you made eye contact with him in you reflection. “I said, look at yourself. Look at the wetness between your legs, and the way my cock looks inside you. Look at the way your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes, the eyes of a woman who cannot get enough of me. Look at my hand pulling on your nipple.” Another orgasm was building as he whispered next to you. His cock rammed into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over. He kissed your neck, his hand still rubbing at your nipple, whilst his other that pinned you to him began to bruise you. Without warning your second orgasm hit, and you leaked over his cock, wetness trickling down your legs as you screamed around him. He didn’t pause this time, continuing to fuck you, biting on your shoulder now. He moaned in your ear, grunting as you felt him spill inside you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you are incredible.” He kissed your shoulder again, slowly pulling away, both of you wincing at the sensitivity. Thor stood up behind you, and gently lifted you to your feet. He swept you up, pausing to grab your towel, and carried you to the bathroom.

“Let’s have a bath, baby.” He kissed your lips and you smiled, still swimming in the high of your orgasm. He placed you down, and climbed into the bath, not letting go of your hand, he helped you balance and step into the tub. You settled into his arms, and spent time wrapped up together, soaking in the hot water until it began to cool. 

You heard footsteps and voices outside your door, shit, how did the others get in? Panicking you jumped out of the bath, quickly wrapping your towel around you. 

“Y/N! Thor! Where are you?” Tony’s voice echoed through your door. Bloody Stark, you knew he’d have found a way to get back, the hazard of being surrounded by geniuses and super heroes. You walked across the room to your door opening it slightly.

“Sorry, I was in the bath.” Tony smiled, noticing the red mark on your shoulder where Thor had bitten you, and looking over you seeing the messy bed covers and your underwear strewn across the room, a grin spread over his face. “What’s happened here, Y/N? Was there a fight? Have you seen Thor?” Tony pushed past you, looking around the room. 

“Umm no, everything’s fine, are you sure he isn’t um, in bed still?” You lied, your face beet red. An almighty splash came from behind you, and Thor walked into the room, dripping wet and butt naked. 

“What do you want Tony? I was enjoying a nice bath, is there an emergency?” Now it was Tony’s turn to blush, eyeing the muscled God before looking down to you, eyebrows raised. 

“No, I’m fine, just checking you’re okay,” and he skipped out of your room, grinning like a child. 

“What did you do that for?! Now everyone is gonna know what happened?” You turned to face Thor, pouting at him. 

Thor grinned and kissed you deeply, pulling you into his arms. “Well they’re going to hear you screaming my name again at some point, sweetheart.”

Taglist: @negans-lucille-tblr​ @just-the-hiddles​ @markofdean79​

Since you moved in opposite Captain America's best friend five years ago, your life has not known peace. He's always found some way to draw you into his messes, right from the first meeting where, all in the name of being neighbourly, you'd helped him collect the fruit that had escaped out of the bottom of his paper carrier bag and scattered all across your shared hallway and staircase.

“Why do you need so many plums?” You had asked, and thus began a wonderful friendship you wouldn't be without.

Even with the pre-dawn wake up calls.

“S'early Buck. What d'you want?” You mumble into your pillow, burying yourself further under the duvet, too warm and comfortable to think of getting up.

“Ice skating! Hurry up, why aren't you ready yet?”

Whining quietly, you twist so you can peak at him over the top of your many blankets. Nobody should look that beautiful at seven in the morning, the dim light from the living room is creating a halo around his hair and making him look even more angelic than normal, and you only just stop your sleepy self from reaching out and pulling him in to lay with you.

“You forgot, didn't you?”

That kicked puppy look will be the death of you. Many people have told you you're completely smitten for him, and at times like this you can see what they mean; you can never say no to Bucky. The last thing you want to do is upset him or let him down, which is why you hold your hands out and allow him to half-lift half-drag you from your cosy bed and upright into the chilly air of your apartment.

Grabbing the warmest clothes you can spot quickly, you dart into your en-suite to change. “I didn't forget. Not completely. Just that it was today.”

How you forgot that, you don't know. Bucky has been so excited about it since you'd agreed to accompany him, the sparkle you'd seen in old photographs back in his eye every time he talks of New York winters in the thirties, when he and Steve would drive into the state to find a frozen lake to skate on.

At least for this first time he's agreed to take you to a proper rink.

Zipping up your coat, you snatch up your gloves and rush out into the kitchen where you find Bucky waiting impatiently.

“Ready?”

“Err, breakfast?”

“We can get something on the way,” He promises as he ushers you out of your home. “Come on, clocks ticking!”

*****

The car park for the Skating Arena is completely empty when you arrive, never a good sign when you know Bucky as well as you do.

“Is it even open at this time?”

“Not exactly.”

“Bucky! I am not breaking in-”

“We won't be! Don't worry, Sam is friends with the owners, they'll let us in. And this way nobody will bother us.”

You know it's more than that. Large crowds are nobodies best friend, and Bucky is recovering from years of trauma. His name may be cleared, and his new role as an avenger alongside Sam has brought in a fresh generation of fans who defend him loyally against the occasional bigot, but he still shies away from large gatherings of unfamiliar people. Following behind him as the sole employee who's in this early unlocks the front door for you both, you swear to yourself that, even if you don't, you'll make sure Bucky has a good time this morning because there's no one in this world who deserves it more.

The unmarked ice reflects the twinkling fairy lights strung around the edge of the viewing stands, making the rink look less like an intimidating sports arena and more like one of the cosy Christmas scenes from the postcards in Bucky's memory notebook. It's peaceful, and after fastening your laces you sit contentedly on the sidelines finishing your croissant and hot chocolate as you let him take the lead.

Bucky wobbles slightly when he first sets foot on the ice, making you snort.

Mock glaring, he beckons you towards him. “Come on then Y/N, let's see you do better.”

“Oh no, I know I won't be any good. But I haven't been boasting about how amazing I am for the last week.”

“Give me a second. It has been eighty years.”

You watch as he finds his balance and slides forward tentatively. He's tense at first, his movements stiff in fear of falling, but before long the muscle memory kicks in and he makes it a full circuit round the rink. Waiting until he's over on the opposite side again, you brave walking in the skates and shuffle over to the entrance gate. Clinging to the door, you put one foot then the other onto the ice, surprised by how slippery it is even just standing still.

Bucky passes by as you're dragging yourself along the barrier, not daring to move your feet off of the floor.

“Do you need help?”

“I'm good,” You reply.

It's obvious he's enjoying himself, letting you do your own thing as he zigzags all over the place, dismissing the arrows directing him anticlockwise around the rink, yet another benefit of it being just you. He laps you for a second time and you laugh, shaking your head at his smug expression.

You're half way round when you regret not excepting his help. Near the score board there's a section where the netting is gathered and blocking your way, forcing you to push away from the support of the side and glide past it. It's nerve racking and at one point you nearly slip over, eventually crashing into the wall when you make it across the gap as you have no idea how to slow yourself down.

You take a break, subtly catching your breath. Scraping at the ice with the tip of your skate, you admire the way Bucky makes it seem so effortless, every inch the natural he claimed to be.

Spotting your lack of movement, he skids to a halt by your side.

“Why aren't you skating?”

“I'm fine here.”

“No Y/N, that's not the point.”

Taking your hands his, he guides you away from the wall and into the middle of the floor. Bucky skates backwards as you try your best to keep upright, eyes locked on the ice in front of you.

“Eyes forward, Y/N. Then you won't crash.”

Looking up, he grins at you when you gasp, clinging onto him tighter as he pulls you along faster.

“Maybe try moving your feet,” He teases. You do as he says. “There! You've got it.”

You nod, a smile slowly coming back to your face as you realise that it's not that difficult with help. Maybe you'll never be as good as Bucky is, but it's a start.

After another lap where he's basically acting as your support, you let go with one hand and he moves so you're skating side by side, your rhythm becoming smoother the longer you practice. Glancing over at him, you find he's already looking back. Rosy cheeked and bright eyed, he's the picture of carefree innocence and you can feel yourself falling a little bit more as he squeezes your hand encouragingly.

The rush of love makes your heart stutter.

“I think you'll be okay now.”

Releasing your grip, he lets you go at it on your own. Your initial panic is soothed as he stays by your side, letting you get used to moving alone but not too far away if you need him, and when you look more comfortable he goes back to racing across the ice, occasionally whipping past you as you applaud his skill.

He's soon back, holding your hand and coaxing you to speed up, scarf flying behind you as you skate in circles together.

Then it all goes wrong.

“I'm going to pick you up now, okay?”

“What? I don't-”

Before you can finish your protest, Bucky's hands move to your waist and bring you into his hold. Lifting you up a couple of centimetres, his mistake is to try and spin you, as when you feel you're about to topple over your leg reflexively kicks forward, sending the blade of the skate straight into the vulnerable flesh of Bucky's shin.

Dropping you back down as he winces in pain, you struggle to keep yourself upright whilst also checking on his injury, not paying attention to how close the side of the rink you are drifting. Bucky hits it first and you crash into him in turn, both crumpling to the floor without grace.

You don't miss the way he catches you just before you fall, and how he's still shielding you from the cold ice when you come to a rest, his body heat seeping through the padded coat he's wearing as you lay in his arms in shock.

“Ow,” Bucky whispers from beneath you, snapping you out of your daze.

“Sorry!”

Scrambling off him and kneeling by his side, ignoring the melted ice seeping through your joggers, you gingerly reach out for his leg where you guess he's hurt. The way he's holding his organic hand awkwardly in his other worries you too but you have to deal with one thing at a time.

Rolling up the leg of his trousers, you are relieved to see his skin is only slightly red, and not pierced and bleeding as you feared. Satisfied, you replace his clothing and move on to his wrist.

That doesn't look so good.

“Can you stand?”

Using his metal hand as support, he picks himself up and slides to the next exit, where he sits on the end of the front bench and lets you perch next to him to continue checking him over. He's silent, watching you tend to him. When your trembling hands turn his arm over to inspect the dark bruise forming under the skin, you sniff, coughing quietly and ducking your head to hide the tears that threaten to fall.

Bucky notices. “Y/N.” Cupping your cheek with his cold hand he tilts your face to his. “It's okay.”

A couple of tears escape as you lean into his touch. “I hurt you.”

“I hurt myself.”

“But, I-”

“And I've had much worse. Don't cry.” He fishes a tissue out of his pocket and helps you dry your eyes. “Now, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” You choke out, so full of love for this man. He's always looking out for others and it makes you want to hug him and never let go.

You're interrupted by the owner who witnessed the commotion over the surveillance cameras and has brought you an icepack wrapped in a cloth. Nodding in thanks you carefully place it over Bucky's injury, sitting back on the uncomfortable seats as he tries to cheer you up with a story about Steve breaking his arm on one of their skating trips back in the day.

“So you see, could be much worse.”

“You didn't say anything about this before!”

“Because I knew you'd never agree to come with me.”

“Maybe there's a good reason!” You exclaim, gesturing to his own arm and the icepack resting on top of it, which he goes to remove. “Hey, keep that there. It'll help.”

“I don't need it any more.” Taking it off and putting it down on the other side of the seat, he flexes his wrist without flinching in pain. “Super soldier healing, remember. It was only a little bump.”

Taking his arm back into your hands, you squeeze it gently, fascinated by how the bruise disappeared in minutes whereas on an ordinary person it would take a week. Sometimes you think he's more reckless because he heals so quickly, and whenever he's on a mission you feel like you hold your breath until he's home, the need to know he's back and safe just across the hall a clear sign that you care more for him than you admit out loud.

If one quickly healed bruise has you crying, you don't want to know how you'd be if he was seriously hurt.

Letting his wrist go, you hide your emotions behind scorn.

“What were you thinking?”

He sighs, looking away. “I wasn't. I was trying to show off.”

“Didn't really work, did it? And who were you showing off for?” You say, glancing around at the empty stands.

“You.”

“Me?” He doesn't answer so you push on. “Why?”

“Because I like you!” Something in him snaps, and suddenly he's standing in front of you, pouring his heart out. “Because I think I'm in love with you but I'm too scared to actually say anything outright so I do stupid things like this, hoping that you'll be impressed and realise you like me too. I'm sorry it nearly got you hurt. I don't really know how to do this.”

He sits back down with a thump after he's finished, emotionally exhausted. Staring at each other wide-eyed, you can't find the right words to respond, nervous laughter bubbling out of you as you think about how absurd this situation is.

“Please don't laugh.” Bucky's face falls. “Tell me I've read it wrong and you'll never feel the same way, but please don't laugh at me.”

“I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at us! Everyone says we're both as blind as each other, but I didn't know they were so right.”

“What are you saying?”

“That you don't need to show off for me. I'm already impressed, whatever you do.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So I nearly broke my neck for nothing?”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you playfully push at his chest. “You didn't nearly-”

The rest of your sentence is cut of as his mouth meets yours, one hand twisting into your hair to guide you closer as the other slides around your waist to hold you against him. His lips are soft and insistent, never too much, leaving you wanting in the best way.

Of course he's a good at this. Nothing can compare to how it feels to be kissed by Bucky, when he's handling you so gently and yet making your heart race wildly, better than you'd ever imagined.

“Is this alright?” He asks, breaking away for a second to search your eyes, the cheeky grin on his face suggesting he already knows the answer.

“Hmm.”

“And has this put you off ice skating forever?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Good. So you'll come with me again next week?”

“Only if it always ends like this,” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

Bucky laughs in delight. “Deal.”